


Slash in the living room

by StAnni



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 11:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: It is messy and a little crazy, getting head slash giving head in the middle of the living room.  Eliot knows that Margo is around, heard her yell at some second year.  So there is at least two people that can walk in on them any time.





	Slash in the living room

Quentin is a wave of intense energy on a normal day, but when he is turned on, it’s cranked to a Chernobyl-like level. 

His fingers trace and push and pop buttons as he opens his mouth to Eliot’s parted lips, soft but strong and tasting a little like blueberries. Eliot tries to suppress the groan of pleasure as Quentin breathes him in and his silky hair trails down Eliot’s chest as he leaves warm, hungry kisses on the way to Eliot’s navel. The chair creaks with their push and pull and Eliot has to get a firm hold on the arms as Quentin undoes his fly, part his knees and move in between to pull the head of Eliot’s cock into his wet, hot mouth.

It is messy and a little crazy, getting head slash giving head in the middle of the living room. Eliot knows that Margo is around, heard her yell at some second year. So there is at least two people that can walk in on them any time.

He cants his hips slightly forward when Quentin grips his thighs and takes him deep. “Fuck, Q, that’s it.” and gathers the soft brown hair into a fist, fucking forward just a little to the wrong side of rough – the way that they both like it. Quentin moans around his cock and then suddenly pulls off, his mouth red and used and Eliot’s cock twitches just at the sight of it. Quentin is lovely and eager and just intoxicating as he presses his forehead to Eliot’s, his own hands pushing his jeans down to his knees, kicking them off in jerked, impatient movements and then stroking his significant erection with abandon. “Wanna fuck me right here?” Quentin asks, and it is not a question as much as it is a desperate suggestion. 

With Quentin, depending on his mood, how his particular ebb and flow of want pans out, Eliot knows when to be passive and when to rise up, take the lead. This is one of those rise up moments.

He yanks Quentin closer to him, Quentin’s thighs parting and sliding up Eliot’s legs in a smooth movement, his own cock – hard and wet from Quentin’s tongue, pressing against the underside of Quentin’s balls and Quentin moans at the contact – licking into Eliot’s mouth and catching him there in a searing, biting kiss. Eliot, with Quentin deepening the kiss, presses familiarly against the tight ring of Quentin’s hole. “Yes, fuck, yes…” Quentin whispers between kisses and Eliot, drawing his hand up to slide his finger, two fingers, into Quentin’s mouth, returns the hand and presses in, holding Quentin to him, until he is knuckle deep in that velvet tightness. 

Eliot starts a slow rhythm and Quentin groans, moving with him – lashes low – heady. In that closeness he leans close to Quentin’s ear – and his voice low, moving in and out, kicks it up a notch “I remember my high school boyfriend, basketball camp – we snuck out, went to make out and jerk each other off in the back of the empty bus, he told me to trust him before he pulled down my shorts, and when he pushed his finger inside of me for the first time, I saw stars.” 

Quentin is fucking into it. His cock is heavy and leaking, pressing against Eliot’s chest and he stutters with the rhythm, wanting more.   
“What else did he do?” he asks, voice strained and Eliot smiles warmly into Quentin’s neck as he presses another finger inside. “He told me how tight it felt, how hot it was, just like how tight you feel now, Q.” Quentin, as if in answer, presses down, pushing the second finger all the way in in a shuddering moan. “That’s right, baby…”

Quentin grips him by the shoulders as he increases the rhythm out of his own accord, riding Eliot’s fingers and Eliot is so turned on that he grips the base of his cock, firmly, as it rubs against Quentin’s perineum. “So what happened next?” Quentin asks, eyes dark with want. “I started to stroke myself, watching him watch me, and after a moment he leaned over me and used his other hand to pull his cock out of the front of his pants. He was ready and leaking.”

Quentin, breathing heavy, stifles a groan when Eliot pushes up with a third finger – upping his game on this ride, and getting Quentin’s ass ready for a very thorough fuck – the storm of it already building in his bones.

Eliot continues – eyes locked on Quentin’s “That was my first time, right here, on the seat of the school bus, feeling the warm head of his cock push into me, spit slick and raw. I took it, all of him, so easy, I wanted him, I held him and rode him and begged him to come inside of me.” 

To that Quentin snaps his hips, truly fucking himself on Eliot’s fingers now. “Yeah, I’m ready, come on.” He breathes and Eliot, beyond ravenous now, flips them around, spreads Quentin’s legs over his shoulders as he presses him into the back of the chair and slides his cock, aching and thick, deep into Quentin’s body. The moan is exquisite and Eliot breathes through the need to push in fast again, brutal. They have fucked like that before – rough to the point where his heart pounded against his chest. 

But tonight is different – it is that dizzying lust, sure, but it is more than that too – and Eliot’s fingers dig into his skin, his lips part and he nods, just once, and Eliot bottoms out in a shaking thrust – so deep and tight that he feels high. 

He knows that someone, could be anyone, walked in on them before (almost) immediately turning to walk out, but then waiting, just a second, at the door – he knows that someone saw him, after having pushed Quentin off the chair and onto his knees on the floor, pound slow and deep into his boyfriend’s spread ass. He knows that someone heard Quentin pant “Fuck El, that's so deep, you’re so big…” as he pulled Quentin flush against him, held him there. 

He wonders if Quentin knows, he must – making such a show of it. The thought of Quentin getting turned on by someone watching them makes him almost lose it as he increases the pace, pulling Quentin up and holding him back against his chest as he thrusts his hips forward, deeper. “Come inside me, please…please El” Quentin begs, just on cue, and Eliot smiles, elated, as he empties himself deep inside Quentin’s ass, feeling the warmth of his come slick the final few thrusts until Quentin lets out a breathless groan – his own cock spilling thick across the carpet and falling forward, arms braced, head back “Fuck that was…fuck that was fucking…that was fucking amazing, El…that was good…”. 

Afterwards, pulling up their pants and cleaning their spent on the floor, Quentin grins to himself and Eliot gives him a smirk “What?” At first Quentin, true to form, tries to shake it off, but then, because he cannot help himself, whispers quietly, almost blushing and near enough to kiss “I think someone was watching us for a minute there.”


End file.
